


gladiolus tristis

by noseforsatu (berryargento)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Post-Golden Deer Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Verdant Wind route foreshadowing, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 23:58:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20665952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berryargento/pseuds/noseforsatu
Summary: As though he bears the title of ‘Master Tactician’, he does not have a strategy when it comes to choose the right flowers.





	gladiolus tristis

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write some Claude ... I hope I did it right. Thank you for reading and have a nice day.

Claude ever told Hilda once, the flowers on a grave are as much for the living as they are for the dead. The flowers always means something, they are not simply bloom then go to the waste as it is being presented to the land of the buried. Flowers might not be able to be their friends to the journey of afterlife--maybe, just maybe if there _is_ afterlife, Claude mused--nor the dead knows that the living gave a tribute by a symbolism of flowers, but it is all needed.

The Leader of Leicester Alliance mustered another sigh before he departed to the place where he wanted to be that afternoon, feeling his own steps are heavier than the former.

The road he stepped on didn’t change, Garreg Mach is still as same as ever, whilst some part of the buildings are ruined because of the lack of care over past five years and how bandits have ransacked the place for treasures. They have shared this ‘forgotten’ place as a main headquarters of Leicester Alliance for almost half a year now, and the war is finally nearing its end. The only reason of his heavy footsteps perhaps because he found himself a bit anxious - guess Leonie will laugh at him if he confessed as such - or perhaps he didn’t know what to say later.

As much as he had visited graveyard area for so many times to tribute on the fallen lives, he felt his throat constricted on this very moment.

Claude walked down toward the stairs leading to the monument he asked for others to build to honor the fallen, two buckets of flowers on his hands.

The brown-haired young man might be knowledgeable about poisonous plants to add on power to the arrays of his bows, but as for flowers - flower is quite a sensitive issue. As though he bears the title of ‘Master Tactician’, he does not have a strategy when it comes to choose the right flowers; and thankfully, when he asked the two about flowers, they didn’t laugh or jeer at him.

As someone Claude deemed to know about flowers more than he is, Lorenz recommended him Gladiolus, the same flower Hilda usually brings to him when Claude is about to pay his tributes. __‘Or you may pay them with their favorite flowers, if you find any,’__ he quoted from Lorenz, finding his usual high brows were askew for some time, he visibly was fiddling with answers to Claude's question.

Claude didn’t find anyone else to ask about these particular two, so he turned to Hilda later to ask about Gladiolus.

Hilda, also with sad expression to response Claude’s query, said that someone is growing Gladiolus by the Greenhouse, but Hilda didn’t know if the person is willing to share it with Claude since it is reserved to someone else. The seed is a bit scarce as the state of war is keeping the merchant activities at bay, so gardening has becoming a bit of hard with only the leftover seedlings.

Turned out as they visited the Greenhouse, it is none other but their Professor who planted stalks of flowers. Knowing the fact, Claude was about to forfeit his request as he knows where the flowers would be given to. Then again, Hilda is always quicker than his arrows to ask the female Professor about the Gladiolus - even stating Claude’s request aloud, much to the Leader’s chagrin.

Byleth smiled at him, Claude can see the hint of sadness for a fraction of seconds, before Byleth took the flower stalks she has cultivated, cutting the overgrown leaves, and compiled the Gladiolus and another red flowers to a small bucket.

“It is __her__ favorite flowers, Carnation.” the turquoise-haired teacher said. “You should offer some to __her,__ too.”

Claude said nothing, swallowed his words of consolation while Hilda, finally understand the grave of situation, bowed in apology repeatedly to their teacher.

.

Standing before the stone monument, Claude felt his hand trembled as he placed two buckets at the foot of the foundation. He released another heavy breath before he pulled to sit, cross-legged, in front of the flowers. He didn't mind on getting his pants dirty.

“You might not be buried here, but I hope my tributes will reach the both of you,” Claude recited. “Edelgard, Dimitri.”

He looked up to the afternoon sky, the clear afternoon sky that is a contrast of when they met in the Gronder Field not for another House Tournament, but for a battle to death. His tactician self made use of the fog and the rain to make his move, but his own self is beyond devastated to know how Dimitri ended up dead later after he retreated upon the arrow of Failnaught.

Claude still remembered clearly how his screams didn’t cease Dimitri from his seething anger to the particular Emperor. How his eyes were glaring with nothing but a wish of revenge.

Claude had hoped if he was able to pull Dimitri back that time before he reached Edelgard, he will retreated, but then Hilda reported to them later of the King’s unfortunate death. Fallen on the field, Dimitri’s body was pierced by gazillions of spears belonged to the Empire’s army. They said one of the knight of Faerghus dragged away the corpse from the battlefield back to the Fhirdiad and he would be resting on the lands of the Holy Kingdom.

Dimitri deserved better, not a death while brimming with the dark blood of revenge, not a death while blinded with his own sense of justice. Claude couldn’t prevent his death.

Then, Edelgard - as their beliefs stand on different sides of the coin, one side must meet its demise. Their ideals might be the same, but as the war burns, it is known to them that they couldn’t meet an agreement with the paths that they had taken.

However, as much as there’s no need to spill the Emperor’s blood, claiming Edelgard’s head was a must.

Claude felt his heart ached every time he looked over Byleth’s momentary sorrowful expression after she personally took Edelgard’s life. Her usually placid expression is growing more vacant, though perhaps it is only when Claude happened to see her, as the Professor never shows her sadness to anybody after the death of her father five years ago.

While this path is what he had believed to take, to open Fodlan to a new possibilities like how butterflies reborn from its cocoon, he sometimes found each and every passing moment to second guess everything. Every time he looked to the hallway of where classroom were, with its joyful, lazy days of bonding passed in-between them, Claude will held his breath. He knew that for himself, being in Fodlan and known as one of the Fodlan’s natives while he mostly not, has been one of the best luxury he ever had. There was no discrimination, no one questioned your birthright or maybe nobility as you helped each other to survive the school days - that was one wholesome experience of a lifetime.

Life is nothing but a cycle of good and bad; luxuries won’t stay forever, time won’t stay frozen in a moment of peaceful stillness.

“If the three of us can actually coexist, sharing our meal again, laughing, dancing, singing; will both of you turn back the time until that can happen?”

.

.

.

“There you are, Claude! Everyone is searching for you!”

Hilda was the first one to greet him as he said the last farewell to the stone monument and to the memories of the past. The pink-haired young woman waved at him with high energy per usual, quickly run up to the brown-haired young man. Hilda was a bit peeved, perhaps Claude did took his sweet time with his visit that he almost forgot that they had a farewell party for this dinner.

This will be their last dinner here at Garreg Mach, a small feast after they survived the King of Liberation’s resurrection, also a farewell party to Claude as he claimed the crown of Almyra’s king. He was sure that his friends will bring Fodlan to the new dawn, and his dream will finally be fulfilled.

“You better wash your face, though.” Hilda said.

“Ah.” Claude paused. “Did I look __that__ bad?”

“Lysithea-chan will lash at you, maybe. Thinking you wasted the time reading some sappy sad drama stories somewhere that you forgot the farewell party,” the pinkette chuckled. “Don’t worry, only Lorenz, Professor, and me, who know that you were visiting the grave for __them__.”

“As capable as always, my trusted right hand man~” the brunette said in sing-song voice. A high-five might not hurt, but Hilda avoided him with a pout.

“You better pay your debt to me in full later once you are back from Almyra, you hear?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

[All in all, Claude highly hopes that the flowers - even just the fragrance of it - will make its way to ascend with the dead; soar higher, farther, and the dead will find the peace with it.]


End file.
